


How to Redeem a Bathing Product

by Einzel



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3253181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Einzel/pseuds/Einzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I dedicate and gift this story to my good friend Livi, who asked for Togafuka for her birthday, or more specifically, post-despair Togami spoiling Fukawa, but some Naegiri also slipped in along the way. Happy birthday, Livi, and a great many more!</p>
<p>The story begins with Naegi's birthday since it's so close to my friend's birthday, and goes from there. I stuck some references to other fics in there (mostly Livi's) because I couldn't resist. I hope you will enjoy it and god bless you forever!</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Redeem a Bathing Product

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zenonaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/gifts).



Naegi’s birthday party, modest though it was by Byakuya’s standards, turned out to be a delectable success. Between the six survivors pulling their resources and resourcefulness together, no one with a reasonable understanding of the most that could be done under their circumstances could think anything wanting.

The party was to be held in the evening, and while Makoto and Kyouko adorned the barren walls of their apartment with makeshift paper garlands and fashioned party hats out of colored cardboard with a roll of duct tape, Aoi set out to make the cake from a box of donuts, a large packet of donut holes and a bowl of freshly made vanilla butter cream. She began by setting a single donut in the middle of the largest plate she could find, slathering it with the butter cream to cover the sides and get some into the hole, which was then stuffed with a donut hole and the top covered with butter cream to glue the next donut into place. She managed a tower of three and then began sticking donuts onto the sides, covering them just as she had the ones before and sticking donut holes into the gaps, until the whole thing looked thick and round enough to resemble an iced cake if you squinted at a distance.

“Perfect,” she whispered to herself with pride, to which a voice from the bottom of her heart agreed with _It looks very fine, Asahina._ Aoi nodded with a quick wipe of her eyes and placed her creation into the fridge to firm up, hiding it just in time from Yasuhiro, who let himself into the apartment carrying some four bottles tucked under his arm and two more dangling from his grasp.

“Asahinacchi!” he announced himself to the first living creature he could see, pulling one of the bottles from under his arm with his free hand to show her. “I’ve got the booze!”

“Over here,” replied Aoi, opening the fridge again but blocking the cake from view as she reached out a hand to take Yasuhiro’s bottles one by one, sticking them into the first available spot on the shelves. There was a pause after the third bottle, her fingers wiggling for contact in vain until Hagakure spoke again.

“Is that icing?” he asked, nodding his head towards the bowl Aoi left on the counter. “I call dibs!”

“Oh, jeez…” muttered Aoi. “At least hand me all the bottles first!”

Yasuhiro had never been faster to oblige her and soon dove onto the bowl with its smears of leftover butter cream like a ravenous beast, scraping it shiny and clean with the spatula. Aoi shook her head but could no longer contain her grin. A moment later, Makoto and Kyouko emerged from the bedroom with more garlands on Makoto’s arms and Kyouko bringing two completed party hats, their own already in place.

“Naegicchi! Kirigiricchi! Happy birthday!” called out Yasuhiro from behind the bowl.

“Thank you!” replied Makoto with a cheerful smile.

“Good evening,” replied Kyouko calmly as she walked over, and after a moment of consideration, she pulled one of the party hats onto the nearest dread on Hagakure’s head. She handed the other hat to Aoi, who perched it on the tip of her upward bound ponytail.

“Where’s Fukawacchi and Togamicchi?” asked Yasuhiro when there were no more drips of butter cream he could salvage. Makoto checked his watch.

“Well, we invited them for six, so they should be here soon. Is everything ready?”

“The cake’s in the fridge!” replied Aoi, swatting away Hagakure’s hand when he tried to pry the fridge door open to check for any excess.

“The lasagna will be ready soon,” said Kyouko, her lips twitching into a small smile. Cooking and baking seemed rather daunting to her at first, but having found a few reliable staples, she was growing confident in her abilities of putting together a satisfying casserole on demand.

“Did we want to make a salad?” asked Makoto, who had quite forgotten about food in the middle of making party decorations and was thoroughly glad Kyouko had a good memory and the oven a timer that buzzed loudly whenever its counter hit zero.

“Sure,” replied Kyouko.

“I’ll help!” volunteered Aoi.

“What do _I_ do? Give me a job here!” whined Yasuhiro, feeling left out with nothing to polish off the bowl anymore. Makoto laughed.

“You can help me set the table.”

“At your service, Naegicchi!” saluted Hagakure.

* * *

At precisely six o’clock, not a second sooner or later, the doorbell rang to announce the arrival of Togami Byakuya and Fukawa Touko, the latter of whom stood beside his white knight fidgeting and one hand tucked behind Byakuya’s elbow, a thin gift bag hung from her arm. Aoi opened the door for them. Makoto’s attention was engaged by the piping hot lasagna he had just pulled out of the oven, Kyouko was busy putting the finishing touches on a simple green salad to go with, and as for Yasuhiro, he was at pains to fill six glasses of various sizes halfway with alcohol for the first round.

“You are just in time, come in!” chirped Aoi, scooting aside to let them pass. The cheap decor caught Byakuya’s eye like the itching of a gnat as he stepped inside with Touko, who seemed to cling to Byakuya’s elbow for dear life, one hand instinctively slipping over her abdomen as she approached the others.

“Togami-kun, Fukawa-san, welcome!” Naegi greeted them from the counter, where he had finished carving the lasagna into twelve portions. Kyouko set the salad onto the table and then nodded to them in greeting. Togami hummed.

“What did you bring?” asked Yasuhiro excitedly as he set the bottle on the table. “Snacks? Board games? Presents for Naegicchi?”

“We brought ourselves and that should be enough,” replied Byakuya flatly. “That said, I believe Fukawa prepared something especially for you, Naegi.”

Fukawa took his words as her cue to reveal the gift bag that had been hiding between her and Byakuya. She inched slightly away from him not to knock against his arm as she pulled the gift bag off her own arm and reached it out to Makoto.

“It’s a.. a short story..” she murmured as Makoto took the bag wide-eyed. “D-don’t expect anything long or elaborate for s-something like this. It’s n-nothing. You’ll probably hate it…”

The look on Makoto’s face made it abundantly clear that he would cherish it.

“Fukawa-san, I’m honored,” he said with a glad smile, taking the bag in both hands as though he were admiring the cover of a book. “Thank you! I will read it as soon as I can and tell you how I liked it.”

“A story? That’s a great gift! I should have brought my own,” chimed in Hagakure, completely oblivious of the dirty look Touko shot him as he took one of the glasses on the table and lifted it to his lips for a sip. His eyes slipped to the others and he twitched as he remembered his manners. He lowered the glass. His lips glistened just a tad.

“A drink, Togamicchi?” he asked, holding out the glass. Togami’s brow flattened.

“I have no desire to drink anything that’s been tainted with your saliva.”

“I hardly touched it! But suit yourself,” shrugged Yasuhiro, offering the same glass to Touko next. “Fukawacchi?”

Fukawa broke out in horrified shudders and drew closer to Byakuya’s side.

“D-don’t you know that pregnant women cannot drink, you imbecile..” she sneered, the hand on her abdomen curling into protective claws. Yasuhiro’s eyes widened.

“You mean.. that Togamicchi—” he stuttered, slamming his glass back down onto the table to free his hand for a round of applause. “Bravo!”

“Fukawa-chan..!” breathed Aoi with her hands on her mouth, continuing the applause where Yasuhiro left it off. “Congratulations!”

Touko shrank backwards, but she appeared a little less displeased than before.

“Congratulations, to both of you!” joined in Makoto, with Kyouko nodding politely to his words.

“We must drink to this,” declared Hagakure, quickly handing a glass to everyone who was eligible to drink and scampering off to bring some tap water for Touko, who took it with no small degree of reluctance. “It’s a miracle!”

Togami frowned. The chemistry that formed between himself, Touko, and a bottle of eggnog brought to them by Hagakure on that lone holiday evening could hardly be classified as a miracle, but he suppressed the urge to say so lest Yasuhiro get any ideas of attributing credit to himself for the conception of their future heir. Touko entertained very similar thoughts, but while Byakuya’s features contorted in disdain, hers quivered with sinful nostalgia. Her arms entwined in front of her chest, glass and all. Togami did his best not to take notice of her indecency.

“To Naegicchi’s birthday, and Fukawacchi’s baby!” said Yasuhiro as he raised his glass. The others followed his example and clinked their glasses together, Byakuya now looking less rigid as he toasted with his fellow survivors. He then received a party hat from a deadpan Kyouko, which he tossed onto the counter the very moment she passed by him to hand the last one to Fukawa. She, at least, agreed to hold hers in her hand for a little while before she dropped it on the sofa and then forgot about it.

* * *

After a rather unexpected start, the rest of the evening progressed as planned, fueled by agreeable conversation over an even more agreeable dinner. The lasagna and salad turned out just as Kyouko had hoped and were demolished easily between the six of them, and the five of them made short work of at least three bottles by the time Aoi brought out the cake and stuck a single candle into the middle.

“Make a wish, Naegi-kun!” she said with a grin. Makoto gathered a deep breath and blew. The flame was snuffed out. Everyone except Byakuya and Touko clapped their hands for him, though Touko did touch her hands together for a faint imitation of applause.

“Cut it up, cut it up!” urged Yasuhiro, who grabbed his plate at once and held it out with trembling fingers, until Aoi took pity on him after handing the birthday guy the first slice and slid the next one onto Hagakure’s plate. Touko scoffed at his greed, glaring at him so long she failed to notice how Byakuya took the plate right from under her nose and held it out to Aoi so the third slice could find its owner. Once the plate was laden, he guided it back to its place in front of Touko. She stared at him in surprise, her hand fluttering over her stomach under the table.

“B-Byakuya—”

“The sooner you stuff your mouth with cake, the less we’ll have to hear from you,” said Togami calmly. Aoi furrowed her brow in anger, her lips parting to tell him off, but the next moment, Touko took up her fork with no apparent misgivings and carved off a small bite of the cake to taste it. Makoto sighed. After all this time, he still wasn’t used to the way Togami spoke to Fukawa and he didn’t think he ever would be.

* * *

As soon as everyone received a slice, conversation died a short, temporary death as they sampled Aoi’s masterpiece. Makoto quickly told her was the best cake he had eaten in years. Yasuhiro showed his approval by nudging his plate towards the cake again, and after some gentle persuasion, Touko agreed to eat just one more slice, thinly carved, solely with Byakuya Jr. in mind.

“I love birthdays…” sighed Yasuhiro as he popped the last bit of his third slice into his mouth and sucked his fingers clean. “We need to hold birthday parties more often.”

“Y-you’re just saying that because you want to gorge on cake..” hissed Touko. Hagakure feigned deafness for a moment.

“Are there any more birthdays coming up?” he asked next, shooting hopeful looks at the others.

“Mine is in April,” volunteered Aoi.

“May,” said Byakuya, though his looks promised no invitations or cake.

“We’re going to a friend of ours who celebrates hers tomorrow,” replied Makoto. “Mine is on the fifth and hers is on the sixth. Pretty close, huh?”

“Am I invited to that one?” asked Hagakure with an eager grin.

“If you have to ask, then obviously not,” remarked Byakuya.

“No need to be such a cold fish, Togamicchi,” moaned Hagakure, eyeing the leftover cake with a wistful sigh. Byakuya’s eyebrow twitched. Touko hissed.

“The nerve of a swine, calling Byakuya-sama a cold fish,” she muttered under her breath. Again, he pretended not to hear.

“And then…” continued Makoto before the mood might drop, “I think Fukawa-san’s birthday is in March. Is that right, Fukawa-san?”

Touko lowered her eyes, her hand clenching hard around the fold of Byakuya’s sleeve beneath the table.

“What do you care if it’s in March..” she muttered to herself, her eyes darting from Makoto to the others with the raw intensity of a cornered animal’s. “Y-You just want to wind me up.. and then not show up and leave me waiting.. or come just to laugh at what an old hag I’ve become…!”

“Answer the question, Fukawa,” said Byakuya, his tone calm but firm. Touko narrowed her eyes, her fingers twisting on the captive fold in her grasp.

“The third of M-March..” she mumbled, her shoulders arched close. “B-but don’t expect me to throw a party and entertain you all day! I want nothing.. to do with it… birthdays are a s-stupid waste of time..”

Makoto’s brow creased, but a moment later, Kyouko’s hand surreptitiously slipped from the table to the top of his thigh and gave it a reassuring rub. His own hand curled onto her gloved one. Kyouko gave him a small smile.

“Then it’s settled,” said Yasuhiro as he scraped a loose donut hole off the side of the cake with his fork and pierced it before Aoi could stop him, holding it up in the air triumphantly. “Next get-together on Fukawacchi’s birthday!”

* * *

That night, just as Fukawa stepped out of the bathroom in her nightgown, worn from all the interaction and ready as ever to sleep it off, Byakuya, already in bed, lowered his book and locked his eyes into hers.

“What were your birthdays like, growing up?” he asked. Such an innocent question, truly, and yet when it reached Touko’s ears, she froze in place and curled her hand readily to her stomach again, as though the small life inside could somehow deflect unwanted words, awful questions just like this one.

“I asked you a question, Touko,” said Byakuya, the book abandoned in his lap.

“They were annoying..” replied Fukawa, her brow furrowed in disgust as she glared at the wall to Byakuya’s left. “N-nothing like what n-normal people have..”

“Did you receive presents?” pressed Byakuya with the calculative curiosity of a scientist dissecting an interesting specimen. Touko cringed.

“I hated them, h-hated—”

“What sort of presents did you receive?”

It took Touko a long time to bring herself to say it.

“B-bathing products.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Byakuya, his brow arched in confusion. He could hardly expect the answer to be a something conventional like a golden watch, a luxury item or a generous trust fund, but to gift common personal hygiene products? Surely he misheard. Touko’s hand seized one of her braids to wring it by the tip, the other refusing to leave her abdomen.

“Y-you heard me!” she spat, her braid fraying where her fist clenched around it. “I got b-bathing products, to remind me that I reek, that I’m f-filthy. I always got them right before going out to dinner.. they said it was t-the only gift I’d ever need.. sh-shower gel, shampoo, soap.. toothpaste.. wrapped in cellophane…”

Uneasy silence settled between them. Without looking down, Byakuya fished the book out of his lap and tossed it onto the night stand just as blindly, his eyes still fixed on her. Touko offered no more information. Togami sighed.

“Stop standing there like you’ve been struck by lightning and come to bed,” came his order and Touko released her poor, tortured braid at once, letting it flop gently to her side. Her shoulders relaxed little by little as she stalked over to her side of the bed and slipped under the covers beside Byakuya.

“Byakuya-sama…” she whispered as she laid her head down.

Togami fixed his glasses with a finger. “What?”

“I d-don’t want a party.. on the day of my birthday. It’s m-my day, right? I can do w-whatever I want with it..!”

“And what would you want to do with it?” asked Byakuya, his features guarded. Touko’s lip twitched into a lopsided grin.

“I want Byakuya-sama to eat me until your tongue goes numb,” she moaned without hesitation, both hands slipped over her stomach as if to cover the little one’s ears. Togami scoffed, but his expression now betrayed amusement.

“I see,” he replied stoically as he turned his eyes to the ceiling. “Then any social event would have to wait until the next day. What you just proposed could very well last all evening.”

Touko laughed in loud snorts and quickly slapped a hand over her mouth, but the snorting could not be stopped so easily. Byakuya turned his head.

“Keep those disgusting noises to yourself,” he muttered, but when Touko reached over to claim his hand, he let her place it over her stomach without a word.

* * *

The next morning, Naegi received a surprise visit from Togami Byakuya and felt remarkably naked in his pajama bottoms as he opened the door and found him standing fully suited with a briefcase in his hand.

“Togami-kun… come in…” blurted Makoto as Togami passed him by, shooting a nervous look at Kyouko who merely rose from her seat by the kitchen table and flipped on the coffee machine to produce a fresh cup for the guest. Togami took another chair without a word. Makoto lifted a finger and then lowered it in defeat. He hardly knew how Togami did it, but each time he dropped by, he always took Makoto’s chair, and just as it had warmed up, too.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” asked Kirigiri as she took a slow sip of her coffee, her eyes searching Togami’s features. Byakuya scoffed.

“The pleasure is certainly yours,” he replied, fixing his glasses with a finger. “Naegi.”

Makoto swallowed.

“Did you read Fukawa’s gift to you?” asked Byakuya, his eyes inexorably on Makoto as though it were an interrogation rather than a talk of birthday presents. Makoto let out a nervous laugh.

“W-Well, I was going to read it last night, but we were so tired we decided… to go to sleep…” he mumbled in embarrassment, desperately hoping his words would not reach Touko in any shape or form. Byakuya scoffed.

“It is just as well,” he said, his voice flaring loudly in the sleepy apartment. “Naegi. You will write a review of it and submit it to me by the fourth of March.”

“Eh?!”

“I expect your review to be at least two sheets long, considering she wrote you exactly twenty pages. Remember to structure it and check your spelling. I will not tolerate mistakes, especially not with such a generous deadline.”

“Y-Yeah… okay…” mumbled Makoto, a little stunned and more than a little intimidated. Togami rose from his seat. When Kyouko offered him the freshly brewed cup, he declined with a small dismissive wave of his hand.

“That is all, Naegi,” he said in a nonchalant tone. “I await your review. …Kirigiri,” he added, nodding his head slightly in Kyouko’s direction before turning around and heading for the door. It closed behind him with a sharp thud. Makoto stared after him like he had been slapped in the face, but Kyouko’s lips widened in a content little smile.

“I believe this is exactly what I think it is,” she said, her thumb tucked under her chin.

* * *

Asahina and Hagakure too were graced with a blitzkrieg visit each, during which Asahina unwittingly promised she would figure out how to bake a proper cake by the fourth of March, though she hardly understood why Togami forbid the use of donuts while at the same time insisting that the layers have the exact texture and taste of a regular donut. Hagakure’s assigned task seemed less daunting in comparison: he was to procure enough alcohol for a party of five and concoct a bottle’s worth of virgin eggnog and wrap that one bottle handsomely by the fourth March. Yasuhiro, perplexed by the idea of making an omission in an already harmless drink, inquired about the nature of the request three times but was denied. Togami, it seemed, was all business and seriousness that day with no time for idle chatter.

He had much to do. Indeed, a scant month hardly seemed enough time to figure out how to go about his latest cunning plan.

* * *

The third of March rolled around a lot sooner than any of them thought. Naegi spent up to two weeks carefully reading the story and making notes of the parts and details he felt he should mention, until he filled some five sheets with sketchy scribbles that Kyouko later helped him organize into a coherent, stylish text. In her free time, Asahina roamed the local library and its woefully small gastronomy section for ideas that she tried out one by one, feeding the results to Makoto, Kyouko and Yasuhiro in return for comments and suggestions. As for Yasuhiro, he had an absolute ball making virgin eggnog and neither needed nor wanted tasters: in matters like this one, he preferred to do everything himself.

Touko, on the other hand, gradually piled more and more work on herself as the date loomed ever closer, suddenly doing more chores, more writing and more sleeping in than Byakuya had grown accustomed to. Not that he minded – the busier she was, the less she thought to inquire of how Byakuya spent his own time, and he would have abhorred her prying. All he could stand to do was make her choices a little easier by keenly pointed mentions of certain areas that could stand to be improved, and Fukawa agreed at once that it would be the very next thing on her suspiciously random agenda.

By the third, she was exhausted and slept through the whole morning, leaving Togami starved and empty-handed at lunch time. He was obliged to drop by Naegi and Kirigiri’s apartment and make do with their lunch instead; it was a great inconvenience. He then had to carry home a portion for Touko and that, too, was a nuisance. It took away a lot of precious time from his preparations for dinner for two, a home-cooked slow-boiling French dish Byakuya had painstakingly mapped out in his mind several times in lieu of actually trying to prepare it even once. He resolved to do it but once, and do it perfectly. Everything else had long been taken care of to his utmost satisfaction.

* * *

After what seemed like an eternity, Touko eventually appeared in the kitchen doorway still in her nightgown, rubbing at her eye with one hand as the other rubbed her stomach, unaware that Byakuya was waiting for her in the far corner with a book now lowered onto the table.

“Congratulations,” he said in a flat tone. Touko cringed. Byakuya’s expression was unreadable. “You managed to sleep through breakfast, waste a whole morning and conveniently wake up in time for lunch.”

He reached out a hand to point at the plastic box Kyouko filled with a block of rice and pork casserole. Touko looked relieved.

“I’m s-sorry, Byakuya-sama, I didn’t mean to—”

“There is no occasion for this,” came the dismissive reply. “If you are grateful at all, eat it while it is still at room temperature. A cold casserole is no more edible than trash.”

“Of course! I’m coming!” blurted Touko as she scrambled to the cupboards for a plate and utensils. Under Byakuya’s watchful eye, she transferred the casserole to her plate and soon made short work of it, then allowed herself to say that it was bearable to eat. Having eaten at Makoto and Kyouko’s table for the longest time, they both observed that Naegi and Kirigiri were reliably mediocre cooks and that would suffice in a world lying in ruin.

“What will you do today?” asked Byakuya in a dangerously casual tone. Touko’s hand quickly found its way to the nearest braid.

“I.. I thought that I would clean my writing room, and-and do laundry, and—”

“You will do no such thing,” replied Byakuya. Touko shuddered.

“B-but Byakuya-sama, we agreed today was m-my day—”

“It is. And I believe we also agreed that for better or for worse, I have a right to any part of your day that I choose.”

Touko cracked an oozing grin, her hand letting go of the braid so the tip of her finger could brush against her ring under the table, the only ring she had ever worn.

“We did, we did,” she moaned obediently. Byakuya rolled his eyes.

“I hereby lay claim to the rest of your day. If you planned to socialize with any of the delinquents we so leniently call our friends, it has to wait until tomorrow evening.”

Touko’s shoulders slumped in relief. Leave it to Byakuya-sama to arrange everything and spare her from unwanted attention for as long as possible.

“I d-do not want to socialize with anyone,” she said at once. Byakuya nodded.

“Wait here,” he said next and left his seat for the hallway. Touko peered after him for as long as she could and then straightened, clinging to the edges of her seat like it were an island she couldn’t leave. Togami returned a moment later with what appeared to be a box wrapped in shining black paper. He glared at her empty plate until she grabbed her dirty dishes and stood up just long enough to shove them into the sink and rinse them. She sat back down immediately after. He placed the box carefully in front of her.

“Open this,” instructed Byakuya, his eyes fixed on her like a hawk. Touko’s hands trembled slightly as she reached out, coaxed the box onto her lap and used her nails to scrape just enough cuts in the wrapper to free the top of the box. She forced the flaps open. Inside she found a pile of large pastel balls smelling faintly of perfume behind their pretty cellophane wrappers.

“They are what commoners call ‘bath bombs’,” explained Byakuya in a passionless tone. “They guarantee a fragrant, relaxing experience.”

Touko paled, staring up at him like she hoped it was just a bad dream, a nightmare the alarm or the cat pouncing on her back would soon rouse her from.

“B-Byakuya-sama… why would you…!” she whined in pain, her hands stiffening into claws. Togami fixed his glasses.

“Because I want to show you and your tasteless, incompetent relations,” he began in a sharp tone, “that I, Togami Byakuya can surpass them all at their own game. They obviously lacked all talent if they continued to give you the same paltry presents every year, and I am here to show you how much they pale in comparison to someone like me. Once you understand the nature of my gift, you will agree that their own pathetic attempts deserve nothing more than to be erased from your mind.”

Touko gaped at him wordlessly. He fixed his glasses again.

“In one respect, I shall certainly surpass them,” he added. Her eyes widened in curiosity. “I understood they did not assist you in using your gifts. And even if they had, they would certainly not have caused the same sensations I am capable of.”

Touko gasped. “D-does that mean—”

“I shall prepare a bath using one of these… ‘bombs’, for you. Then you shall see what I mean.”

* * *

Having studied the instructions just as meticulously as he had the recipe he was to start on in an hour, Togami prepared a bath the likes of which Touko had never seen before. Blues and pinks swirled about as ethereal as if a small galaxy had fallen from the sky into the tub, her own personal milky way in vivid, luscious colors.

“Will Byakuya-sama bathe with me?” she asked with an eager face. He shook his head.

“Of course not,” he replied with a slight turn of his head, “but I promised you a sensation hitherto unfelt and I shall deliver it.”

Touko needed no more incentive to shed her nightgown and climb into her beautiful bath. She even closed her eyes, a sign of her utmost trust, and within a minute, she could hear Byakuya dip and remove his hands from the water on either side of her, slipping them up her thin arms to the boney arches of her shoulders. Hot water and foam trickled in the wake of his palms, which pressed with gentle force against Touko’s shoulders to massage them, something he had never once tried since Touko started taking baths in their new home.

His hands rubbed away at a leisurely tempo, occasionally stopping to gather more hot water and foam to massage into her skin. She let out a small moan to encourage him.

“Well… what do you say?” asked Byakuya, his tone a little urgent beneath its usual flatness. Touko’s lips curled upward.

“No one can compare to you,” she whispered as she melted into his hands. Togami closed his eyes with a smirk. _Have I not told you I would surpass them all_ , he thought, but didn’t say. He didn’t have to. He could tell from the way she nestled against him, how she lifted one of her legs to admire the drip of rainbow suds off her skin and arch it just the way he liked it, that Fukawa would have agreed with all her putrid little heart.

* * *

Once he had sufficiently kneaded the knots out of her back, Byakuya moved on to massage her leg as well, starting with slow circles at the base of her thigh and moving gradually upwards, stopping just short of the soles of her feet that were rather ticklish and once cost him a broken lens. He then gave the same attention to the other leg, and with some fervent persuasion from her and modest reluctance on his side, he could be humored to spread the foam to more delicate places, including Touko’s small, stiff breasts that were growing more sensitive with each passing day.

He then turned his attention to her hair, first rinsing it generously with water and then pouring on some shampoo to spread all over her scalp. The only thing he refused was to dry it for her. That would have been too tedious and bothersome for his taste, but Touko did not mind. To properly honor Byakuya’s beauty work, she was more than happy to dry it herself, and could be trusted to lounge around in her bath robe on the bed and entertain herself while Byakuya retired to the kitchen, guiding himself through the motions of cooking with a great deal less liberality than he had seen at Makoto and Kyouko’s home. Content as he was to eat their food, he observed with disdain that Kirigiri never measured anything and Naegi was frankly the sloppiest kitchen hand Togami had ever seen.

* * *

Byakuya’s surprise dish turned out just above mediocre, which he perceived as another triumph, this time over Naegi and Kirigiri. Not that he would boast unless prompted. There was no need risking his usual seat at the table, which Naegi always warmed up for him beforehand. At any rate, Fukawa reemerged from the bedroom looking refreshed and dressed in a comfortable gown, and once seated, she ate Byakuya’s cooking heartily. That was his sole object and he succeeded: he could have no cause for complaints.

“Why aren’t you eating too, Byakuya-sama?” asked Touko as she began her seconds and he had eaten no more than a mouthful to taste his creation. “It’s good! It’s so good I could eat it till I burst!”

“I would,” replied Byakuya, his face carefully guarded, “but if I remember correctly, and I most certainly do, you proposed that I eat something else tonight.”

Touko’s eyes widened in glee. Byakuya’s brow twitched upward with a meaningful look.

“Until your tongue goes numb…” she breathed, her eyes boring into his with yearning urgency. Byakuya withstood her gaze.

“And it undoubtedly will,” he replied.

Touko snorted at his response, cupping a hand in front of her mouth uselessly. Byakuya rolled his eyes.

“You are disgusting,” he said, but his words fell softly against her rosy cheeks, and within half an hour, his lips kissed into hers with greater gusto still.


End file.
